Back in Baghdad ...

Readers, I arrived back in Baghdad last Monday. The trip back was remarkably trouble free and, dare I say, efficient. Why is it always so smooth coming back? I've jumped back into the work routine here and haven't had time to post a proper update. More to come when I get a chance. Thanks for your patience.

Music I bought on iTunes this TDY

Motion Picture Soundtracks:

1. The Dark Knight (Hans Zimmer)
2. Crash (Mark Isham)
3. Pan's Labyrinth (Javier Navarrette)

Songs:

1. Maybe Tomorrow - Stereophonics (part of Crash soundtrack) <-- insanely good
   
2. In the Deep - Bird York (part of Crash soundtrack)
   
3. Feeling This - Blink 182
   
4. Are You Gonna Be My Girl - JET
   
5. Too Hot - Kool and the Gang
   
6. Silly Love Songs - Paul McCartney & Wings
   
7. Baby Come Back - Player
   
8. Cool Places - Sparks with Jane Weidlin
   
9. Dance With Me - Orleans
   
10. Just Remember I Love You - Firefall
    
11. Steal Away - Bobby Dupree

Instrumental:

1. Big Thing in the Sky - William Ackerman (Guitar)
2. Slow Dance - Philip Aaberg (Piano)

Things I enjoyed on this TDY

1. Seeing and spending 48 hours with my attractive wife
2. Not being in Iraq
3. Beer (mmm, beer)
4. Seeing the color green
5. Seeing friends and colleagues I met back in March in Qatar.
6. Sleeping soundly and without worrying about hearing an "incoming" alarm
7. A comfortable bed
8. Driving a car
9. Fewer people walking around with weapons
10. Sweet, sweet Internet bandwidth
11. Rain in the Summertime (also a great song by The Alarm)

Kaboom War Jornal Kaput

I had enjoyed reading the exploits of LT G (in real life, Army Lieutenant Matthew Gallagher) whose blog, Kaboom War Journal, with its gritty posts from duty on the streets in Iraq made him quite famous in the blogosphere. Not having checked his blog since leaving Iraq on this TDY, I was surprised to read in the news that the army had ordered him to stop blogging and delete all content.

The decision, it seems, stemmed from a post he uploaded in a fit of frustration and which was critical of a superior officer's decision to force a promotion on Gallagher which would take him out of a combat role, a role he relished and joined the army for. The army claimed Gallagher's blog was a threat to the "good order and discipline" of his unit.

An archive of his blog is here. Read it and judge for yourself. Personally, I'm sorry to hear this important view and voice from the war has been administratively silenced.

Appreciation Day

The conference is winding down. I had a lot of computer work after today's session. When I got back to the on-base hotel I started a load of laundry. I thought about going for a run (today was even cooler than yesterday) but I opted instead to get dinner on base at the cafeteria before it closed at 6pm. I had been getting a hot lunch there during the conference on the cheap (the average meal is less than $4) and figured it would be convenient with getting laundry done.

The cafeteria has two food serving areas separated by a salad bar. There are grills on either side. I usually do a reconnaissance of what's on the short order side but this time a Filipina waved me away, "Other side, sir," she said. Nonplussed, I went over to the hot meal side and got a selection of skirt steak, corn and rice. The cashier, a Filipino who was obviously gay, rang up my order. I asked why the other side was closed off. He said it was airman appreciation day. Recognizing me as being the in the navy from my lunch time visits, he smiled and added, "don't they have seaman appreciation day in the Navy?"

800 lbs Gorilla

Many of the same people are here at this conference that I first met back in Qatar last March. In the middle of that conference, news first broke that then CENTCOM commander, Admiral William Fallon, resigned. Speculation was rife as to who would be nominated as the next CENTCOM commander. A leading contender, at least around our water cooler, was Multi-National Force Iraq commanding general, General David Petraeus, technically, my boss' boss' boss' boss. This of course, eventually came to pass; General Petraeus since has been nominated and confirmed as the next CENTCOM commander. He likely will take command sometime in the fall.

Because of this, everyone from CENTCOM at this conference treats me with kid gloves as I now indirectly represent their future boss. Several times during the conference they've referred to the 800 pound gorrilla in the room -- by extension, me. "What do you think he'll think of this?" I get asked. I tell them. When ever his name is mentioned, people in the room (unconsciously?) glance at me.

I've had the honor of briefing him once already, in a surprisingly intimate setting across a coffee table in his office, and he's just as intense and personable as he appears on television. He has an immensely difficult job and I am in awe of how much detail the man can keep track of day in and day out. I have no doubt he'll make a fine CENTCOM commander.

But it won't change the fact that I'll get to snicker a lot at this conference.

Perfect Weather

The first week here at Scott AFB was very hot. Not as hot as Baghdad, or generally as crappy, but pretty damn hot and humid. Parts of the conference I'm attending are held in different buildings on base with a five minute walk in between. Just walking around last week resulted in a pretty good sweat.

Two nights ago, I awoke to the sound of thunder and the occasional flash bulb of lightening. The thunder was LOUD. Growing up in California, I didn't see much of thunderstorms and I remain fascinated by them. Although half asleep I found myself counting, "one one thousand, two one thousand..." and so on to gauge how far away the lightening was.

In the wake of the storm, the temperature cooled. Today, it was positively wonderful with highs in the mid-70s F. Colbalt blue skies with no clouds. A gentle wind embraced everything. In fact, it was the best weather I've experienced since, well, last year before I left on deployment. I was rejuvenated.

Relaxing

My attractive wife and I dined well during her brief visit. On Friday night we ate at an Italian trattoria very near the hotel. On Saturday night we walked several long blocks to dine at Oceano, a sea food restaurant. After our dinner we relaxed in the hotel lounge. On Saturday night, there was a wedding at the hotel and a number of the guests were in the main lounge where a jazz quartet played standards. A couple sat next to us on the couch and asked if I would take their picture. They reciprocated by taking the attached photo. I drank a twenty-year Port; it was very civilized. My brief visit with my attractive wife makes me miss her all that more.

Gateway Arch

The past weekend my attractive wife came to visit me! She flew out from California on Friday, 18 July and I met her at the Ritz Carlton Hotel in the St. Louis suburb of Clayton. Over my regularly scheduled leave last May, we spent one kid-free weekend at the San Francisco Ritz Carlton and really enjoyed it. All told, we had just under 48 hours together. It’s very unusual to get to see your family more than once on a deployment such as mine and I was especially thankful to see and spend time with her.

On Saturday, I cajoled my wife into going downtown to see the famous St. Louis Gateway Arch. My wife told me that some of the steel used in the construction of the arch came from a mill owned by her grandfather in Pittsburgh. She said the steel was floated down the Ohio River on its eventual way to St. Louis by rail. We took the convenient St. Louis MetroRail link from Clayton to downtown and walked a short distance to the arch. It is simply magnificent. We bought tickets for the internal tram that takes people to the top of the arch where there is a viewing lounge.

The tram reservation was for roughly and hour and a half so we strolled the old river front neighborhood complete with cobblestone streets. We ended up at the Four Seasons Hotel with an adjacent modern casino. We grabbed a surprisingly good sushi lunch inside and then walked back to the arch.

Aside from the crush of people (it was, after all, summer and a Saturday), the trip up was very cool. The tram is a combination elevator and and rail car that slowly climbs to the apex of the 600 foot arch. Climbing one set of stairs take you to the viewing lounge which is not very big. It wasn’t for the claustrophobic. The view was amazing.

Edited to Add: After reading this post, my father-in-law emailed to add that my attractive wife's grandfather didn't actually own the mill. He went on to explain, "He was a machinist who rose through the ranks to the position of Superintendent of the Heavy Assembly Shop at Pittsburgh-Des Moines Steel Company near Pittsburgh. They fabricated the steel sections [for the Arch] and I can remember seeing them laid out on the shop floor. My memory is that [the steel] was loaded onto barges (the shop was on Neville Island in the middle of the Ohio River) and floated down to St. Louis, but when I did a bit of research it looks like they may have been loaded on to flat cars and transported via rail."

Dinosaur roams halls of LA Natural History Museum

Holy freakin' crap. This is so cool. My two year old son loves dinosaurs (as do I) but I'm pretty sure if he saw this, his head would spin. The kid in the stroller holding his ears is a reaction I've seen from my niece when she's scared. The costume is incredibly cool.

Video courtesy of my friend Henschel


Extinct, my ASS! from The Original Joe Fisher on Vimeo.

Dead Guy Quotes

"The constitution supposes, what the History of all Governments demonstrates, that the Executive is the branch of power most interested in war, and most prone to it. It has accordingly with studied care vested the question of war in the Legislature."

-- James Madison to Thomas Jefferson as quoted in this article I read this morning at breakfast.

Transit

On 13 July, I finally left Gateway aboard a bus that took me, and an assortment of soldiers and civilians, to Kuwait International Airport. We all were dressed in civilian clothes by this point in an attempt to blend in (we still stood out from the crowd, believe me).

From Kuwait, I boarded a commercial flight to Frankfurt, and then to Chicago, and then to St. Louis and my ultimate destination, Scott Air Force Base. It was a long and uneventful journey. At the end of it, I found myself back on US soil.

There is a lot of truth to the saying that nothing makes you appreciate your country more than spending time away from it. I believe that truism is magnified even more if one serves in a war abroad. I marveled at the sheer normality of people moving to and fro at O’Hare International Airport in Chicago. You don’t know what you have here, I thought to myself, watching those around me. At my gate, I heard people grumbling about a flight that was delayed a whole half hour! Remembering my experience at BIAP, I chuckled to myself quietly. You have no idea, I thought to myself, listening to them.

It’s good be in the United States for the next ten days. Home.

Relevancy

The weather at Gateway, and by extension Kuwait, was awful. Highs in the 115 F with a constant north wind/hair dryer finely mixed with sand. It made walking around the camp quite uncomfortable. To make matters worse, today was air conditioner maintenance for the row of tents I stayed in. This meant turning it off for an hour plus while technicians cleaned the filters and hosed everything down.

I left my tent and walked over to the MWR building. The only Internet access I had was on my Blackberry. Concerned about leaving Kuwait, I decided to look up the weather on Google. I searched for the terms “kuwait kcia weather” and the second most relevant link was a post from this blog back in November. Weird but that’s the power of Google for you.

Gateway

Last May, I made the same trip here when I went on leave so I knew what to expect: a twenty minute bus ride to Gateway Station and in-processing. Upon arrival, our group was separated into those who were going on leave and those, like me, where going TDY. I checked with the Navy LNO and presented my orders. He looked at them and said they were issued by the army (MNF-I) and that I had to go to the army LNO desk. I presented the orders once again to an army sergeant who pronounced them valid and started making phone calls to SATO, the government travel agent. I had hoped to get ticketed on that evening’s midnight flight to Washington from Kuwait City International Airport (KCIA) but it was too late. In a way, I was relieved; I didn’t relish more travel at that point. I was assigned a VIP tent as rank actually means something down here in Kuwait. I grabbed dinner and a much needed shower. I slept well.

The next morning, I checked in with the Army LNO who said I had an approved travel itinerary. I picked it up, got it stamped and had a lot of time to kill before my late afternoon bus to KCIA. I went to the MWR tent where I typed up the last few blog entries. Unfortunately, a loud movie was playing projected onto a very large screen. Between the size of the screen and volume it was impossible not to be aware of it.

(The movie was called “The Ruins” and was a variant of the teen age horror flick genre involving two young couples vacationing in Mexico who visit a remote Mayan pyramid. They are tormented and slowly killed by some kind of semi-intelligent carnivorous plant which covers the entire pyramid. If someone ever says, “Hey, let’s watch ‘The Ruins’, run, don’t walk away. I think I actually lost a few IQ points watching it while I typed.)

C-130 to Kuwait

After 28 hours at BIAP I finally got manifested on a standby flight to Ali as Salem aboard a C-130. I’d flown on them before and knew it was not the acme of comfort but it was leaving before my scheduled flight later in the day and represented my best chance of staying on schedule. We placed our checked luggage on a cargo pallet and then lined up to board the aircraft. I tried to stay at the end of the line since that would place me at the rear of the aircraft (last on, first off). From experience, I wanted to avoid sitting in the narrow portion of the middle of the aircraft. The nylon web seats are arranged longitudinally facing each other. Unfortunately, I misjudged and ended up sitting towards the end of the narrow middle portion. I was squeezed in across from a female army enlisted sergeant carrying a pack that should have been palletized; it was bigger than her. I’m not claustrophobic but it was very crowded and well over 100 F while we waited to take off. Once aloft, the air conditioners kicked in and the temperature came down. I actually managed to doze a bit. After a bumpy descent, which made a few people look queazy, we landed an hour later at Ali as Salem AB in Kuwait.

Waiting for Space A

Waiting to travel Space Available (“Space A”) involves registering at the Passenger Terminal at BIAP. They record where you want to go, your personal details, print out a sheet of paper and hand it to you. As flights get ready to leave, the pax terminal people (all Air Force enlisted types) announce a Space A roll call. You hand the attendant your sheet, which lists the date and time you registered. The attendant arranges them chronologically. The person who registered first, regardless of rank, gets de facto priority on whatever seats are available. Depending on the destination, time between roll calls can be as little as a couple of hours or as much as eight.

The pax terminal offers stainless steel chairs, a wall refrigerator filled with water and several flat screen TVs playing a random assortment of movies. When I arrived last November, the immediate area surrounding the terminal was uneven ground strewn with rocks. Ever adaptive, waiting personnel found nooks and crannies to rest on. When I was here in March, the entire area was closed off and I saw engineers were busy leveling the ground and pouring large concrete slaps. Now, the entire area was neatly covered in concrete (see photo). The only downside was that the concrete slabs reflected the Iraqi summer sunlight making the area mostly inhospitable. Add twenty-foot concrete T-Walls and it gives it a vaguely Stonehenge-ish feeling. Waiting soldiers now rested either inside concrete bunkers which offered shade or inside the now more crowded terminal.

Nearby the terminal is an air conditioned trailer with two Navy enlisted LNOs. They share the trailer with United Nations and Department of State LNOs who coordinate flights for their respective people to and from Iraq. I actually found the trailer last March when I flew out to the last conference I attended in Qatar. The trailer offers a relatively secure place to stash luggage and sit in while waiting for a flight.

While waiting inside I met four other Navy people (two enlisted petty officers, one chief petty officer and one officer, a former enlisted man and now a commissioned limited duty officer). All four were redeploying home after year-long tours. I listened to their stories about their deployment. Two two enlisted were interrogators, and the chief and lieutenant were master-at-arms men, Navy police. While the interrogators actually performed their duties under assignment with army units, the two master-at-arms men explained they were supposed to train Iraqi police but ended up performing non training duties.

It’s a typical story I hear from Navy personnel: their orders say one thing and they end up doing something substantially different. When I was at Fort Jackson we were told to report back if we were “re-missioned” once we got to Iraq. However, the definition of “re-missioning” is somewhat slippery. For example, if you are a master-at-arms and are assigned to a joint unit whose purpose is to train Iraqi police but you are not specifically doing training you are not re-missioned. However, if you are a Navy lawyer and are told you need to run convoy duties full time that’s re-missioning.

The experience of the two master-at-arms men obviously left a bad taste in their mouths. They clearly were experienced and professional (both of them had nearly twenty years experience) yet neither of them really applied their trade craft while in Iraq.

The two petty officers had been at BIAP for four days waiting for their flight. They spent the first night outside sleeping on picnic tables before they found the Navy LNO trailer. Normally, Navy personnel need to request a flight home from Navy Forces Central Command (NAVCENT) forty-five days before their orders expire. Unfortunately, these two petty officers were assigned to a remote army unit and didn’t get the word. As a result, they had to wait for a Space A flight just to get home. They did say they had informed their first sergeant (E-8), the senior army enlisted non-commissioned officer in their chain of command, thirty days before the end of their orders but he had not done anything about it. They told me that when it became clear he had not done anything, the army unit’s command sergeant major (E-9), the most senior non-commissioned officer in their unit, appropriately “counseled” the first sergeant -- a procedure that involved having the first sergeant stand at attention and be yelled at for a period of time. It didn’t improve the two petty officers’ situation but it did make them feel a little better.

Rocks

As I type this, I’ve been stuck at Baghdad International Airpot (BIAP) for over 24 hours waiting to fly to Ali as Salem in Kuwait. I tried, unsuccessfully, to fly Space Available (standby) on four separate flights. I do have an actual reservation for later this afternoon but my scheduled arrival likely will not give me enough time to get SATO to give me a commercial ticket and fly out of Kuwait City International Airport (KCIA). Am impending dust storm here in Baghdad is only adding icing the cake; if it gets worse, I’ll be stuck here another day.

Being stuck here gave me another opportunity to visit Camp Stryker Stables, a transient area near BIAP. There is a bus that runs every hour between BIAP and the Stables. Yesterday afternoon, I took the bus over to the stables since there would a five hour delay between potential flights. The accommodations are well enough (air conditioned tents with cots and pillows). The problem is just getting to them. They are a long walk from where the bus drops you off and sit on large lots covered with small rocks. While the rocks keep the dust from blowing they are particularly annoying to walk on, especially if you are wearing body armor and lugging a suitcase.

I hate walking on rocks. Hate it hate it hate it. It’s like walking through wet sand only bigger and dryer. You have little traction and it seems you expending more energy to move forward. In many ways, it’s a metaphor for my entire experience here.

Travel, Again

I’m going on another conference which means more travel. Unlike the last conference, this time I am going all the way back to the United States. Getting there and back will of course require moving through the Theater of Pain that is intra-theater travel. I heard about this conference a while ago and didn’t think MNF-I needed to go. Further meetings and video teleconferences proved otherwise. Still, upper management hemmed and hawed about whether or not to send me. It wasn’t until some very senior people got involved that the decision was made. Unfortunately for me, the late decision meant being behind the eight ball with respect to travel plans.

After getting my orders approved, I attempted to get someone to purchase my commercial airline tickets. I was on the phone for several hours talking to a series of Liaison Officers, which are referred colloquially here as LNOs. LNOs are supposed to act as representatives of their units while embedded with another. They rarely are useful; metaphorically, they are given a top hat and cane and dance their way through the day with just enough information to be dangerous while exercising little or no true authority. SATO, the official government travel agency, kept telling me I had to submit my travel request via my Navy LNO but they didn’t know who that might be. I got a number and called that. The person who answered referred me to another and that person to another. Tap dancing. Finally one just suggested I get down to Ali as Salem Air Base, the base I previously travelled through in May to go on R&R, and meet in person with the SATO reps there.

For my last TDY, I stuffed everything into a large backpack but for this one I need a suitcase. I have a venerable (read, old) rolling suitcase I bought for my initial post-9/11 deployment. I figured it would be easier to roll than carry on this trip. Of course, walking anywhere in Iraq involves traversing large areas of unpaved ground, usually strewn with rocks. The first patch I encountered was just 100 meters from my trailer in the IZ. Just this once, I decided to slog through it and wouldn’t you know, the damn right wheel came off its axel. For the rest of the walk to the helicopter pad near the Embassy, the right wheel locked and slowly ground down from the friction of being dragged across pavement. Not an auspicious start to the trip.

At least the brief helicopter trip to BIAP was pleasant; along the way, the two helicopters paused at the famous Crossed Swords monument and hovered facing each other to take pictures. I leaned my camera across to the far window and got the attached photo.

Things I Learned About My Father

Since writing this blog, I’ve learned two new things about my father. When I wrote about one of our popular metaphors for working here -- rowing in a slave ship -- my father emailed me to say he had been in Los Angeles in 1959 and saw Ben Hur at the Egyptian Theater.

He wrote, “Ben Hur was one of the best and most beautiful movies I ever saw, you were not even born. I saw it in the Egyptian Theatre in the early 60's and I don't think I will ever forget that rowing scene. In reading your post, I could hear the rhythmical sounds of the drums. However you are not condemned for life, only for one year, so keep on rowing and very soon, like Prince Juda Ben-Hur, you will return home victoriously.”

I was so touched by what he wrote. He knew exactly what I meant by evoking that scene from Ben Hur. Here, we often say, “row well,” to each other as a way of commiserating our long work hours. More importantly, he reminded that my experience here isn’t permanent although it seemed so when I first arrived. I had no idea he had seen the movie and I hope that when I get home we can see it together.

When I wrote about going to church in the International Zone and that we recited the prayer to Saint Michael at the end of every mass, my father emailed me to tell me he recited the same prayer in Spanish while growing up in the small city of Cananea.

He wrote, “I was touched by what you wrote on St. Michael The Archangel. This, as far as I can remember, was one of the first prayers I learned when I was a little boy in Cananea, and of course it was in Spanish:

San Miguel Arcangel, defiéndenos en la lucha. Se nuestro amparo contra las acechanzas y perversidades del demonio. Que Dios manifieste sobre el Su poder, es nuestra humilde súplica; y tú o Principe Celestial, con el poder que Dios te ha concedido, arroja a Satanás y a los demás espiritus malignos que vagan por el mundo para las perdición de las almas.

He also told me this prayer was recited, also at the end of mass and in English, when we used to go to church as a young family in Downey, California. He found it interesting that this prayer from his childhood was recited at this church in the United States. He also told me that when he visited hist long time friend, who is also my God Father, in a remote village in Mexico, the local parish was called Saint Michael the Archangel. Lastly, he told me that on a recent trip to Hawaii with my mother, the local Catholic Church was called Saint Michael by the Sea.

I had no idea Saint Michael would play such an important role -- in both our lives.

7/7/77

As my work day ended (roughly 2200, Baghdad time) it suddenly hit me that today was 7 July and that I could remember most of what I did thirty-one years ago today on 7/7/77. About the only reason I remember was the unusual confluence of sevens in the date which, at the time, I marked as auspicious. I was in-between the fifth and sixth grade attending summer school at Suva Intermediate in Bell Gardens, California. Two months earlier on Memorial Day, Star Wars had premiered and I had already seen it in nearby Cerritos, California with my family and my school friend Mike T. I was fascinated with the movie and it was all I could talk about with my friends.

Attending summer school with me that year was my friend Eddie M. Among some of the elective classes we attended were Mr. Lightholder’s art class. I remember that Mr. Lightholder would make custom t-shirts for us using stencils and spray paint. All we needed to do was bring in a white t-shirt and he would spray paint it. Every time he made a new stencil I wanted one which perplexed my mother. That summer, he made a Star Wars themed stencil and we all were mad about getting our own. I don’t think I actually got it that day but it was pretty close.

I also remember going to “Nutrition” which was a sort of recess and combination light meal before lunch. I purchased a piece of cinnamon toast and a milk for twenty-five or thirty cents and remember talking with Eddie M about Star Wars (what else) as well as which teacher/homeroom we would have next year for the sixth grade. We loved our previous fifth grade homeroom teacher, Mr. Mike A. Brooks (I remember the middle initial because he always initialed our papers “MAB”). We were sure the sixth grade would be a disappointment after Mr. Brooks’ especially cool homeroom (it wasn’t; I had an equally impressive sixth grade teacher, Mrs. Dawn Favilla). As I perused Suva's website, I found a reference to last year's winter concert that was led by Mr. Tom Axworthy, the same band teacher that was there when I was a student!

I remember thinking, what a lucky day that was being so full of sevens. I don’t remember being especially lucky that day but I did ponder what life would be like eleven years later for 8/8/88 and twenty-two years later on 9/9/99. It seemed like an eternity away. One thing I could never had predicted: I would be in a far away country at war thirty-one years later.

The Weather

The weather has gotten better. That is to say, we've received a respite from the all encroaching dust. Everyone is in a better mood.

We also had a blessedly quiet fourth of July (no "rockets red glare" in the International Zone).

My Wife is a Rock Star

Let me tell you why my attractive wife is a rock star. She has a full time job and, for the past eight months, has been a single mother caring for our two year old son. Our son increasingly has been expressing his will, as two-year olds are wont to do and things have been challenging to say the least.

She wakes up in the morning and either takes him to our neighbors, who take him to Day Care, or takes him herself. She works a full day, then comes home and picks him up, playing with him, feeding him and putting him to bed only to start the cycle again the next morning. In addition, she is managing a two bathroom remodel of our house, working with our contractor, picking vanities, paint colors, faucet fixtures, and marble samples. When I call I can hear the stress in her voice but she continues to put her shoulder into the wheel and keeps going. She doesn’t get a brake.

Although we are blessed with good neighbors and friends who are helping, it’s my wife who ultimately takes on the entire share of keeping our lives at home moving forward. She is tough, smart, and I’m very proud of her. I wish I could do more, aside from offering lame words of encouragement transmitted via satellite. Although life and work remain challenging for me here in Baghdad, the real war is being fought by someone tougher than me on the home front.

Still sucks

If you can believe it, today was even dustier and more orange than yesterday. The whole orange thing peaked in the late afternoon. The morning was pleasant enough and we even saw some sunshine during a promotion ceremony for one of my co-workers held on an inner embassy patio.

Unfortunately, today involved a lot time walking outside in the orange-ness. We had three new arrivals in my office: two short term visitors from Victory Base who are here for a series of meetings and a new team member who will be here for a year. Unfortunately, they all arrived at different times which required going to out to the Rhino staging area to meet them. Even a short walk resulted in lots of dust inhaled. Third state smog alerts in Los Angeles during the early 1980s weren't this bad.